


Zimbits bingo card

by JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Zimbits Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:33:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22413280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle/pseuds/JustLookFrightenedAndScuttle
Summary: All four prompt responses fall in the same universe, so I'll make them chapters in a single fic
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 84
Kudos: 177





	1. Your dog is in my yard again

**Author's Note:**

> All four prompt responses fall in the same universe, so I'll make them chapters in a single fic

Bitty looked out the kitchen window and sighed.

The dog from across the way was in his yard again.

It wasn’t that he didn’t like dogs. Dogs were great. They were warm and furry and wagged their tails and could be taught to sit and lie down and come when called and STAY WHERE THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO BE.

Which was not in Bitty’s backyard, drooling at the gate of his chicken coop.

Bitty growled, grabbed the broom from its hook next to the back door, and headed outside.

Not that he’d actually hit the dog or anything. He just wanted to be able to keep his distance. The dog was a black and white pit bull, probably more than 50 pounds, with a massive head, and Bitty had heard things about pit bulls. About how they clamped down and never let go. While the dog didn’t look threatening now, who knew what it would do when confronted?

Well. Bitty had a pretty good idea, because this was the second time this week and the fourth time this month that he’d had to shoo the dog out his yard.

At least the coop was strong and secure. Coach probably never thought that when he taught Bitty to build things he was just encouraging his baking habit; Bitty had decided to get chickens as soon as he moved to a house with enough property to care for them because he wanted the constant access to fresh eggs. But now his chickens were pets as much as egg suppliers,and he’d be heartbroken if this goldang dog hurt any of them.

He stalked out the back door brandishing the broom.

“Hey!” he yelled. “You! Skedaddle!”

The dog turned from the coop to face Bitty, tail up, ears pricked forward, tongue lolling out.

Did that mean he was mad? He certainly didn’t look scared.

Bitty jabbed the bristles of the broom in the dog’s direction.

“Go ‘way,” he said. “Get!”

Instead of running, the dog jumped towards the end of the broom, trying to pounce on the bristles. The dog ended up down on its elbows, rear end in the air, tail waving like mad. Bitty could have sworn the dog was smiling at him. It didn’t _seem_ mad.

“No, I don’t want to play,” Bitty said, swinging the broom towards the dog yet again, even more careful not to hit … him? her? It. Definitely it.

The dog stood up and trotted back towards the rear of the yard, a blue identification tag swinging merrily from its red collar. If Bitty got close enough, he could maybe get the owner’s name. At least an address or phone number, so he could give the guy a piece of his mind.

Bitty followed at a distance, watching the dog slip under a loose section of chain-link fence at the bottom the yard then bound up onto the back deck of the house not directly opposite, but one over.

Well, at least Bitty knew where the dog lived now.

That evening, Bitty buttoned up his shirt, shined his shoes and tied his favorite red bow tie around his neck. Maybe it was overkill, but Bitty knew he had a baby face, and he didn’t know what he was walking into. What kind of owner would that big black dog have? Someone who liked to intimidate people? Or a family that didn’t know they were harboring a potential chicken-killer?

Bitty hoped the jaunty red tie would strike the right note either way.

He picked up the pecan pie he’d baked in a disposable tin that afternoon and a plastic container with a half-dozen eggs and marched himself out the front door, down the sidewalk, and around to the other side of the block.

If he wasn’t sure he had the right house (a mid-size colonial with blue shingles), he could have told from the deep barking that came from inside as soon as he rang the bell.

He could just write a note and leave it with the eggs and pie …

The door opened.

The guy definitely was big. And buff. And way underdressed, at least compared to Bitty, in loose athletic shorts and a dri-fit T-shirt. His dark hair wasn’t long but managed to look a bit of a mess anyway. His light blue eyes felt ice-cold as they stared down at the offerings in Bitty’s hands.

“We don’t need any —”

“I’m not selling —”

There was a snuffling noise, and Bitty looked down, taking in the man’s highlighter-yellow sneakers along with the black muzzle of the dog, trying to work it’s way around the man’s knee.

Bitty took a large step back, almost falling down the top step in the process. The man’s leg straightened, effectively penning the dog in the house.

“Puck, sit,” the man said. “Sorry about her.”

Well, that was one question answered.

“What do you need?” the man asked, still brusque, but maybe not quite as terse as before.

“I wanted to give you these,” Bitty said, holding up his offerings.

“Ooo-kay,” the man said, not reaching to take the pie or the eggs. “Who are you? I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“I’m your neighbor from around the other side of the block. Eric Bittle.”

“Are you bringing everyone eggs and pie?”

Now the man just looked puzzled. At least he wasn’t grumpy anymore. But Bitty was probably going to make him grumpy again.

“Um, no,” Bitty said. “It’s your dog.”

“The pie is for my dog?” Jack said, glancing down at the dog, who was staring at Bitty from behind the man with … was that a hopeful expression?

“No,” Bitty said. “The pie and the eggs are for you. I don’t even know if a dog can eat pecan pie.”

“No,” the man said. “Pecans aren’t good for dogs. But she can eat eggs. In moderation.”

Bitty stopped his eyes from rolling at the last comment. This man clearly took his diet — and probably his dog’s diet — seriously. Maybe pie hadn’t been the way to go?

“Of course,” Bitty said. “I meant I wanted to talk to you about your dog. It — She keeps getting into my yard, and she’s terrorizing my chickens.”

The blue eyes blinked as the man processed that.

“You brought me pie because my dog is scaring your chickens?” he finally said.

“And eggs,” Bitty said. “Really, I just wanted to ask you to please keep the dog in your yard.”

The man nodded.

“You’re the one with the chickens,” he said. “I wondered. I heard them.”

“I don’t have a rooster because I didn’t want to wake the neighborhood every day ...” Bitty started.

“No, not that,” the man said. “I’m usually up early anyway. I heard the … clucking? I guess … when I went for a run in the morning the other day, when it was really quiet, and I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.”

Bitty’s arms were starting to get tired from holding the pie and eggs, but he didn’t dare set them on the step, especially if dogs shouldn’t eat pecans.

“Um, can you take the pie, Mr. —” Bitty thrust it towards the neighbor again.

“Zimmermann,” the man said. “Jack Zimmermann. I’m sorry, I didn’t know Puck had been getting out. I travel a lot for work, and I just got back a couple of hours ago. I have a friend who comes and takes care of her when I’m gone, but he didn’t say anything about her escaping. But I don’t really eat a lot of pie.”

Jack took the pie anyway, and the eggs, and set them on a table inside the door.

Bitty let his arms relax and said, “It’s happened several times now, usually a couple of days in a row, in the afternoon, and then not for a few days. I followed her today to see which yard she went into. I live behind you and over one.”

“Huh,” Jack said. “Okay. The yard is fenced —”

“She’s getting under it,” Bitty said.

Jack nodded.

“That would explain the scratches I found on her back. Shitty said she hadn’t run into any other dogs. He didn’t mention chickens.”

_Shitty?_ Bitty silently mouthed.

“With all due respect,” he said, “how would Sh — your friend knew what she encountered? If she’d getting out of the yard.”

“He probably hasn’t realized,” Jack said. “He likes to stay here when I’m gone because it’s quiet and he can study — he’s a law student — so he probably thinks she’s in the yard while he’s studying. Hold on, he hasn’t gone home yet.”

The man, Jack Zimmermann, turned to call into the house, “Shitty! Can you come out here please?”

The dog, Puck, took the opportunity when Jack turned to get out, coming right up to Bitty. Instead of jumping, she was snuffling around his knees while Bitty stood stock-still, hands up in what he hoped was a non-threatening pose.

“Puck!” Jack turned back. “Sorry about that. We have to keep working with the trainer, especially on ‘stay,’ but I’m pretty busy. You can pet her — she likes people.”

Bitty very gingerly lowered his right hand, reaching past Puck’s head (well away from her mouth) to pat her muscled shoulder. She turned and bumped his hand with her head, swiping across the palm with a wet nose.

Bitty’s fingers found themselves resting behind her ear, so he obliged her by scratching. Puck let out a contented sigh.

“Who’s this, Jackabelle?”

Jack had been joined by a man in nothing but Wonder Woman briefs. His shaggy hair was a mess, including the full mustache, and his eyes looked tired.

“This is my neighbor Eric,” Jack said.

Shitty stuck out a hand to shake. “Pleased to meet you,” he said. “Did you bring that pie? It smells delicious.”

“It _is_ delicious,” Eric said, because while Jack had been polite, Bitty was not used to having his baked goods ignored to this extent.

“And the eggs,” Jack said. “From his chickens. Which apparently Puck has been terrorizing in the afternoons.”

“She has?” Shitty asked. “But she goes out and then she’s still in the yard —”

“She’s back in the yard when you notice her,” Jack said. “I’ll have to get the fence reinforced. Or install a new one she can’t get under. In the meantime, she has to go out on a leash. Or a tie-out in the yard, I guess, if she wants to play fetch or something. But I don’t want her tied up alone. Only if you stay outside with her, all right?”

“Sure, brah, whatever,” Shitty said. “Wouldn’t want the Puck-princess to get hurt, would we?”

He glanced at Bitty. “Or to hurt your chickens. Sorry, man.”

“Yes, I’m sorry my dog has been bothering you,” Jack said. “Puck, come.”

The dog reluctantly got up from where she had settled half on Bitty’s foot.

“You’re not going to invite your neighbor in to share a slice of that pie?” Shitty said. “What kind of heathen are you?”

“I —”

“You don’t have to,” Bitty said, even though he was kind of curious now. A tall, gorgeous man with a sort-of-trained dog and his friend who seemed to think clothes were optional? Jack said Shitty — really, Shitty? — stayed when he was traveling, but that had been three weeks in the past month. What did he do?

“He doesn’t have to, he wants to,” Shitty said to Bitty, then he turned to Jack with a look Bitty couldn’t interpret. “Don’t you, Jackie-boy?”

“Fine,” Jack said. Bitty somehow thought the exasperation was more for Shitty than for him.

“If you don’t want just pie, I could make an omelet,” Bitty said. “If you have some vegetables.”

“Even better,” Shitty said. “All the protein even you could ask for.”

* * *

Bitty squinted one eye open and looked at the clock. The sun was up. Almost seven. Puck would have to go out.

She must have heard Bitty move because she bounded onto the bed and lay on top of him, her elbows pinning his shoulders while he she tried to lick at his face.

“Puck, get off,” he said, holding her midsection with his hands and rolling over, dumping her onto her back next to him. He sat up, scratched her belly for a moment, and got out of bed to find his running clothes. Bitty had learned that a nice run in the morning did wonders for her behaviour the rest of the day, and it was good for him as well,

Then he would have time to feed the chickens, make a couple of videos and tidy the house. Jack would be home late tonight, after his game in St. Louis. There should be plenty of eggs to make an omelet for their breakfast tomorrow.


	2. Mutual pining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place immediately after the first part of the first installment (before the time jump).

“Nice guy, huh?”

Jack was watching Bitty walk down the sidewalk, carrying his empty plastic container.

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Yeah, he was.”

“You could invite him over again,” Shitty said. “He’d probably bring more eggs if you asked.”

“I don’t know,” Jack said, closing the door softly. “Seems like he bakes a lot.”

“That is his job,” Shitty said.

“And he doesn’t like dogs,” Jack said.

“He never said that,” Shitty said.

“He was afraid of Puck,” Jack said.

“Not really,” Shitty said. “Not by the time he left.”

It was true, sort of. Eric didn’t look like he’d be offering to play a rousing game of tug with her anytime soon, but he had scratched behind her ears and said goodbye to her as well as to Jack and Shitty.

“You’re welcome to visit with Jack,” he told the 55-pound bundle of affection and energy. “But please don’t scare my chickens anymore.”

“Here’s what you do,” Shitty said. “You walk Puck around to the other side of the block. You happen to see Eric out in the yard. You say hello and show off your girl’s impeccable leash manners. And you say, why don’t you stop over for coffee? Or dinner? To make up for the trouble Puck caused.”

“First, Puck doesn’t have impeccable leash manners,” Jack said.

“Don’t say that,” Shitty said, attempting to cover Puck’s ears. “Don’t be so negative.”

“And he only came over here to complain about Puck getting into his yard,” Jack continued. “It’s not like he has any reason to like me.”

“But, brah, that pie,” Shitty said. “You’ve got to get to know him better.”

“Shits, if I get to know him better, it won’t be for his pie,” Jack said. “Wait, that doesn’t mean something dirty, does it?”

“I know you mean his actual pie,” Shitty said. “And it is great pie. But if not that, what about his big brown eyes? The ones that were looking at you the whole time he was here?”

Jack shook his head.

“He’s a nice guy,” he said. “He doesn’t want my dog in his yard. That’s all there is to it.”

“He’s cute as a button,” Shitty said. “And he likes you. He didn’t have to come in and make omelets and stay for an hour. He likes you. Don’t sell yourself short. The question is, do you like him?”

Jack didn’t answer.

The fact was, Shitty was right. Eric was attractive, no doubt. “Cute” wasn’t really adequate to describe him. And he was kind and polite, and Jack liked the way his voice sounded. Jack liked what little he knew about him. He could like Eric. He could like Eric very much.

* * *

“Hi, Mama,” Bitty said. “How are the church ladies?”

Suzanne Bittle hadn’t been thrilled when Bitty told her he was going to stay in New England after college, but she understood that job prospects in the media world were better for him there, and, once he came out to her, that it was easier for him to live an authentic life well away from Madison. It helped that he came to visit at least twice a year, and kept up with all the family and neighborhood gossip by calling a couple of times a week. Including after the Wednesday night ladies’ Bible study, where there was usually more gossip than Gospel going on.

“Oh, you know,” Suzanne said. “Donna’s daughter is pregnant again, and she’s hoping for a granddaughter. Oh, and you remember Lisa Smith? She’s pregnant, too, even though the wedding’s not for another two months.”

“The wedding?” Bitty said. “Is she sure the baby is Micah’s?”

“Hush you,” Suzanne said. “How was your day?”

“All right, I guess,” Bitty said. “I met one of my neighbors.”

“Yes? Someone who’s home during the day like you?”

“Sometimes,” Bitty said. “Would you believe he’s a professional hockey player?”

“Really? Did you meet him at the rink?”

“Mama, I don’t think he has any reason to be at a rinky-dink community rink like where I skate,” Bitty said. “He gets all the ice time he needs at the team facility. He’s actually still in playoffs. They just won a series against Carolina last night, so he has a few days off.”

“So how did you come to meet him?”

“Well, I rang his front doorbell with a pie and some eggs,” Bitty said.

“What? Just out of the blue?”

“I didn’t know who it was,” Bitty said. “I went over because his dog keeps getting in my yard and pacing back and forth outside the chicken coop. She’s a big pit bull — I don’t want her to push her way in. It would be a massacre.”

“Oh, my,” Suzanne said. “Weren’t you a little nervous about confronting someone with a dog like that?”

“Actually, yes,” Bitty said. “That’s why I brought the pie and the eggs. And he did seem a little annoyed at having a stranger on his porch at first, but once I explained the situation, he apologized. Said he’d fix the fence, and that he had a friend — would you believe Jack has a friend whose nickname I can’t repeat to you?— who was supposed to be watching the dog.”

“Jack is his name?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bitty said. “Jack Zimmermann.”

“There used to be a hockey player, years ago, Bob — Bad Bob Zimmermann, they called him,” Suzanne said. “He was … very handsome. Your Aunt Judy had a poster. I wonder if he’s any relation? Let me look him up —”

“Mama, please don’t,” Bitty said.

“Why ever not? He’s a professional athlete, I’m sure I can find out who his father is.”

“I’m sure you can,” Bitty said. “But — I don’t know, it feels like an invasion of privacy? Like, we hardly talked about hockey at all when I went inside. I wouldn’t have known what he did for a living at all if Sh— his friend didn’t say something about all the protein he needs to eat when I was making the omelets.”

“Omelets?”

“He said he didn’t really eat pie, and it seemed rude to just leave the eggs,” Bitty said. “So I made us a little supper. The three of us, Mama, so don’t go getting ideas.”

“But is he good looking?”

Bitty sighed. Mama would probably at least look up a picture as soon as they hung up.

“Yes, Mama, he is,” Bitty said. “He’s also a professional hockey player and is almost certainly very, very straight. Or so deep in the closet it wouldn’t matter anyway.”

“It’s just you haven’t talked so much about anyone since —”

Since Andrew, who had been wonderful until he wasn’t.

“Mama, just because I haven’t dated for a while —”

“I was going to say since you moved to that new house and started working mostly from home,” his mother said. “I know you can do your editing at home just as easily, and you like to test the recipes in your home kitchen, and it gives you more time for your videos, but don’t you miss seeing people every day?”

“Not enough to spend two hours in traffic five days a week,” Bitty said. “I’ll make friends here. Until then, I’ve got my chickens and the kids I teach at the rink.”

“And now a nice neighbor,” Suzanne said. “Who happens to also be nice-looking.”

“I guess so,” Bitty said. “But just because he wasn’t nasty about his dog doesn’t mean he wants any more to do with me.”

Even if Bitty really hoped he did.


	3. Jack Knew First

Jack rounded the corner at the back of Bitty’s house to find him in the coop with the hose, rinsing out the chickens’ feed and water containers.

It had taken a little trial-and-error, but Jack had learned that this was the best time of day to walk by Bitty’s if he wanted to say hello. Bitty was almost always outside at this hour of the morning, seeing to the hens.

“Puck, down,” Jack said, as the dog eyed Bitty among the chickens. “Stay.”

Puck settled on her elbows, haunches still coiled. But she was down, and stationary. Jack counted that as a win.

“Mornin’, Jack,” Bitty said, before pausing to fill the water container from the hose. “Miss Puck.”

“Hey, Bits,” Jack said. “Care to join us on our walk? We can stop for a coffee at Annie’s on the way back.”

Bitty looked down at his shorts and old sneakers. “You sure?” he said. “I’m kind of a mess.”

“It’s just Annie’s,” Jack said. “If you want, you can wait outside with Puck and I’ll go in.”

“I would think you only wanted me to come to watch Puck for you if you ever got anything besides plain black coffee,” Bitty said. “Which you could make just as easily at home. But sure, I’ll come. I happen to enjoy Puck’s company.”

He tipped some feed from the bucket at his side into the food container, checked to see that Jack had a good grip on Puck’s leash, and let himself out of the coop, carefully latching the door behind him. He replaced the lid on the feed bucket, stowed it in the shed, and then approached Puck, who was practically vibrating with excitement, but had not stood up.

“You want to release her so I can greet her properly?” Bitty said.

“Free, Puck,” Jack said, smiling. “Good dog.”

Puck was up on all fours and practically dancing around Bitty’s legs.

“Yes, you are a good dog,” Bitty said, holding out what looked like a homemade dog biscuit. “Shake.”

When Puck offered a paw, Bitty took it and gave her the treat.

“She shouldn’t eat too much,”Jack said. “The vet said she could lose a couple of pounds.”

“One biscuit, Jack,” Bitty said. “And I have some of those muffins you like, if you want to bring our coffee back here.”

They made their way to the park, around the pond and back to Annie’s, where Bitty took the leash. Jack wasn’t sure how Bitty could take the sweetness of his milky, frothy, kind-of-coffee-flavored drink nearly every day, but Jack had the order memorized.

The summer had been good for all of them, Jack thought. For him, to rest and recover and get ready for the next season; for Puck, whose manners had improved immensely once Jack was around to work with a trainer regularly; even for Bitty, who had come to be one of Jack’s best friends. Any fear Bitty had shown around Puck was long in the past, and the two of them were fast friends. Bitty even said he’d care for Puck if Jack was gone and Shitty wasn’t available.

The thing was, Jack wanted more. Maybe it was greedy and selfish, but he wanted to be able to hold Puck’s leash in one hand and Bitty’s hand in the other when they walked together. He wanted to hold Bitty — all of him — in his arms, not just give him an occasional bro-ish side hug. He wanted to taste not just the food Bitty made, but the man himself.

He just didn’t know if Bitty wanted any of that, too. Bitty had already been so generous, starting with bringing pie and even making a meal when he came to complain about Puck getting loose. He’d shared so much of his food, and himself, starting with his instruction to call him Bitty, the way his college friends did. He talked about figure skating, and growing up gay in the south, and deciding to make a new life up north. He even worked hard to get used to Puck, who wasn’t a bad dog, but she was a dog who would hurt chickens, and she could be … exuberant at times.

But as kind and caring as Bitty was, as affectionate as he was with Puck, he’d never given Jack a clear indication that he wanted what Jack did.

Sure, Jack had caught Bitty looking at him a time or two. But, not to be vain, Jack was in good physical condition. Lots of people looked at him. He’d been in the Body Issue and everything. And Bitty didn’t really stare at his body anyway. His eyes tended to stay on Jack’s face most of all. Once he’d pushed that floppy lock of hair off Jack’s forehead, then pulled his hand back like his fingers were burned and said, “Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Jack said. “You can touch me.”

Shitty was no help. He teased Jack mercilessly when Bitty wasn’t around, joking about being their best man and when it would be time to offer congratulations to the happy couple … even though they weren’t a couple. Jack was pretty sure Shitty would lay off if he knew how desperately Jack wanted the jokes to be true, and how desperately at sea he was when it came to making that happen.

The truth was, Jack hadn’t really had any kind of a serious, committed relationship since he left rehab. If he didn’t count Parse — and could you count a relationship when you were drinking and taking enough pills to dull every feeling you were having? — he’d never had a real relationship at all. Sure, he’d dated a bit. He’d been kind of surprised when Camilla told him they’d been together for a couple of months. Just as she was dumping him because it wasn’t working out.

It wasn’t like he was hurt; seeing her had been convenient, in terms of having a date and having someone to have fun sex with. It had been fun; it just hadn’t meant more than that to either of them.

Having sex with Bitty … that would mean something, at least to Jack. The idea that maybe it wouldn’t mean anything to Bitty — that was almost as frightening as Bitty not wanting Jack at all.

It wasn’t like Bitty dated a lot. Jack spent enough time with him to be sure he didn’t have a boyfriend, not someone he saw regularly, not even a lot of dates on Friday or Saturday nights. As far as Jack knew, he’d only been on one date all summer, someone a former college classmate set him up with. It hadn’t gone well.

“He got so drunk he threw up on his shoes,” Bitty said the next morning. “I’m not saying I was a Boy Scout, but I left the college-level drinking behind in college. And I’ve been in such a dry spell, too.”

Would it be so hard to say, “Would you want to try going out with me?”

Jack was sure Bitty would be kind, even if he refused. That would be better than Bitty accepting, and making it a pity date.

Whatever happened, it should happen soon. Once training camp got going, Jack wouldn’t be around near so much. And he’d like to be able to tell George and a few of the guys at the beginning of the pre-season that he had a significant other. He knew the chirps he would get — “Finally!” would probably be the most common reaction — but he also knew this was a good team, a good group of guys, and they’d be happy for him.

Jack carried their coffees outside, and traded Bitty his cup for Puck’s leash.

“We won’t be able to do this so much once training camp starts,” Jack said, feeling almost nostalgic before the summer actually ended.

“No, I guess not,” Bitty said.

He was quiet for a few steps, then said, “Look, I know it could be a problem, me being gay and all, and people might give you a hard time. I understand that you might not want to be seen hanging around with me. But maybe I could come walk Puck sometimes?”

“What?” Jack nearly choked on on his coffee. “That’s not what I meant. At all. I just meant that I’ll be busy this time of day. Of course I don’t mind being seen with you.”

Bitty seemed to relax a bit.

“And Puck would love for you to come walk her, with or without me,” Jack said. Because Puck liked Bitty almost as much as Jack did.

“Well, then, I will,” Bitty said. “I can leave fresh eggs for you, too.”

“That’d be great,” Jack said. “But I wanted to ask something else. Would you like to have dinner with me?”

“What — tonight?” Bitty said, sipping at his coffee. “I could do that. I have a teleconference this afternoon, but I could make that chicken you like after that.”

“No,” Jack said.

“No? You want something else?” Bitty asked. “I have a recipe for — ”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Jack said. “I meant, would you like to go out to dinner with me? Like a date?”

“Like a date?” Bitty said, but his face was pink and he was grinning.”

“On a date,” Jack said. “With me.”

“Of course,” Bitty said. “Wherever and whenever you want.”


	4. Shimmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it ... unless I try to make bingo on my card another way ...

Jack let himself in the door from the garage, stamped his feet — quietly — on the mat and dropped his keys in the bowl. He heard the click-click-click of Puck’s nails on the hardwood floor of the corridor.

She came up and butted her head into his leg. She seemed warm and sleepy. She probably had been sleeping on the bed with Bitty. Jack couldn’t blame her. Curling up in bed with Bitty was next on his agenda.

But Puck was up now, and if he didn’t want to get up again in about four hours, it would be a good idea to let her out. Just a quick step out into the yard. She wouldn’t need a sweater for that.

“Okay, girl,” Jack said. “But you’re not going to like it out there.”

He let her out through the garage, opening the door into the fenced yard. She stepped onto the fresh snow with one paw and turned to give Jack a dirty look.

“I know,” Jack said. “But it’s not my fault. Go quick.”

She trotted a few steps away from the door, peed, and ran back in.

“There you go,” Jack said, locking up behind her.

When Jack opened the bedroom door, the shades were open, and the streetlights reflecting off the snow made the tuft of Bitty’s blond hair — the only part of him that Jack could see from under the blankets — look silver.

Jack opened the closet door and flicked the light on, hoping he could get inside and close the door to undress without waking Bitty. No such luck.

“Jack?” Bitty was propped on his elbows, hair mussed and face soft.

“Yeah, bud,” Jack said. “I’ll be there in a minute. Go back to sleep. It’s late.”

“How are you?” Bitty said. “You didn’t go back in — ”

“I’m fine,” Jack said. “Just a cut. Three stitches. But it’s not real pretty right now.”

“Oh, your poor beautiful face,” Bitty said. “Come here and let me see.”

He reached for the bedside lamp.

“It’s really okay,” Jack said. “Leave the light off. We need to get some rest.”

“Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve,” Bitty said. “And the next day’s Christmas Day.”

“Yeah,” Jack said.

“So you have two full days off,” Bitty said. “You can sleep late and everything.”

“Gotta walk Puck,” he said. “Feed the chickens.”

“I can do that,” Bitty said, leaving the light off anyway. “You can sleep.”

“Wasn’t the deal that you’d take care of Puck when I was away?” Jack said.

“‘S okay,” Bitty said. “I don’t mind. Maybe we can go for a longer walk later, if you can get those booties on her.”

“Haha,” Jack said. “We’ll see. Anyway, I just took her out, so maybe she’ll let us sleep in a bit.”

Once his suit was hanging in the closet, he stepped to the bathroom.

“Just let me brush my teeth, bud,” he said.

He looked out the window on his way to the bed, watching the Christmas lights Bitty had put on the bushes while Jack was away shimmer on the new snow.

* * *

Bitty shifted over when Jack came to bed, giving him the warm spot. The sheets were chilly when he moved, but Jack spooned up behind him, drawing Bitty close with an arm around his abdomen.

“Lights look nice,” Jack said. “I like the white ones.”

“Me too,” Bitty said. “Mama and Coach always use the colored ones. I kept saying we should just use white, but Mama’d never listen.”

“Are you sad you didn’t go home for Christmas this year?” Jack said.

Bitty thought for a moment. He wanted to be honest with Jack, but it was important he got this right.

“I miss Mama,” he said. “And Coach. But now … that’s going to Georgia. This is home. And anyway, who would have watched Puck? Shitty was busy.”

“Shitty could have made it,” Jack said.

“No need,” Bitty said. “Besides, it was his first Christmas with Lardo’s family. Do you wish you went home to Montreal?”

“That’s where I grew up,” Jack said. “Or my childhood home, more accurately. This is my home now.”

Bitty felt Jack’s arm tighten around him, and snuggled into the embrace.

“My point exactly,” Bitty said.

He felt the mattress dip — that was Puck, climbing onto the bed to curl behind Jack’s knees. He watched the shimmer of the lights on the falling snow.

“I’m home right now,” Bitty said. “Love you, Jack.”

“Love you too, bud.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can also read this on [Tumblr](https://justlookfrightened.tumblr.com/post/190467804725/zimbits-bingo-post-1)!


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